Arson and Asparagus
by Lizzy Sidle
Summary: Those people from Chicago are back in the sequal to Bodies and Broccoli. Sara is sent to jail for shooting those eagles and Greg calls in for help to bail her out! But when arson begins occuring at the crime lab, is the pyromaniac Jason responsible?
1. Can I take your order?

**PLEASE READ:**

**Okay, I'm going to warn you right now. If you have not read the first in this series, "Bodies and Broccoli" I suggest you do so that you don'tthink I'm a horrible out-of-character writer (Because I can easily write in-character, it just doesn't work for this particular story because of its necessity to be completely and absurdly weird). The first was partially based off a dream, and now I'm expanding its amazingly freakish weirdness to a sequal! Woohoo! Celebrate:) So yes, expect this to be extremely strange, and I recommend reading the first first. And if you think I'm crazy, I _sort of_ am, but it was seriously just a dream that I'm expanding and I hardly think that dreams are any indication of a persons saneness...most of the time...**

**Summary: **

**Bodies and Broccoli, the sequal! With all its vegetably spectacularness! Sara has gotten over broccoli, Nick is back in the lab, but all is not well. For one morning at a diner, Sara is arrested for shooting those eagles (You know, the ones that were going to eat her broccoli) and now Greg has called those people in Chicago to help! Liz and Jason head on over, but are the sudden occuring arsons a result of the pyromaniac Jason, or somebody else? And what do they do when Sara doesn't WANT to come out of jail? I mean, after all, they are giving her all the asparagus she can eat because none of the other inmates want to eat anything but meatloaf!**

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**Chapter One**

_Can I take your order?_

A small diner sat nestled half a mile from the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and was often the choice of refuge for a well-deserved breakfast after a long night of work, work, work, and dead people. It was on one particular morning like these, in which Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders sat down at one of the few deserted tables left in that diner.

"Greg, there's something I've always been meaning to ask you." Sara said as she set down a plate of asparagus on their table, picked a piece up and nibbled on it.

"And what would that be?" he answered, setting his hands on the table and folding them pleasantly.

"How do you get your hair like that?" Sara asked, pointed at it with a cheese-smothered stalk of asparagus.

Greg smiled. "I'm a superhero; Captain Hair. My hair defies the laws of gravity."

"Oh…" Sara, twisted her head to look at Greg's mussed up hair, then shrugged it off and bit into her vegetable. "So how was work today?"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Fine…but you should know that since you were there."

Sara shrugged again. "Just felt like asking,"

"Uh-huh…hey, where's our waiter?"

Sara turned around in her spot to glance around at the numerous filled tables, 1/4 of which were accompanied by a black-uniformed waiter or waitress. "Uhh…I don't know," she said after a minute, twisting back around to her meal ahead. It was piled high and drenched with melted cheese, and it seemed that Sara was enjoying every bit of it.

"Sara, why is there so much cheese on your asp—I-I mean, your meal?" Greg asked for lack of better conversation.

Sara bit the head of a piece off then licked the cheese from the corners of her mouth. "Because I don't like asparagus without the cheese on it."

"Oh," Greg nodded as if he understood fully, and then looked away, obviously becoming bored. He glanced at the salt and pepper shakers, the cream and sugar, and finally the grape and strawberry jelly packets before yawning widely. "When is our wa—" But he was answered quickly by one of the uniformed employees sashaying over to them.

They held lightly to a pad of paper in one hand while grasping lightly to a pink-feather-pen in the other. Their eyes were a deep mud brown, their dusty black hair swept over in a side part with faint hints at hair gel. The smelled slightly of cheap cologne, and when they spoke it was very brisk, sharp, and laced with a gritty, possibly southern accent.

"Now what can I get for you two?" he asked, brandishing the pink-feather-pen.

"Umm…I'll have some bacon and—" Greg began, but he suddenly caught sight of Sara's darkening face at the mention of bacon. "I-I mean, I'll have a nice plate of pancakes."

"Okay then…" The waiter scribbled onto his notepad, licking his lips absentmindedly. "And for you hun?"

"I'll pass; I've brought my own food." Sara said, folding her hands and placing them under her chin.

The waiter pursed his lips.

"Look, sweet cheeks, in case you haven't noticed we're pretty busy this morning. Now, I need you to order something or else I'm gonna have to kick you out."

Sara just stared back at him.

"I'm gonna give you ten minutes, 'kay?"

She didn't say anything so the waiter turned and glided away once more. Sara watched him go, but her gaze drifted inadvertently downwards. When he turned a corner Sara sat up and poked at her asparagus.

"I like his butt…" she said quietly, causing Greg to cough and sputter after taking a drink of water. He pounded his chest and cleared his throat.

"Th-that's nice…"

Ten minutes later as promised, the waiter was sashaying back to them, still holding the pink-feather-pen.

"Okay girl, what's your order?"

Sara made a fist with her left hand and placed her chin on it, gazing up at the waiter. She squinted at his name tag, then spoke, "Scott, I like you're butt."

"That's nice hun, I like your boyfriend, now gimme your order."

Sara gawked at him as Greg choked on his glass of water again.

"Well? Come on! I don't have all day! I'm getting a full manicure/pedicure after work and I can't be late because they'll give away my appointment."

"I already told you." Sara said slowly, suddenly hostile. "I'm not ordering anything because I'm already eating something."

"And _I _said that you had better make up your sassy little mind before I have you arrested for loitering and then give away your spot to some hot, big-breasted, supermodel throwing goo-goo eyes at Mr. Cool Hair here!"

Sara pursed her lips and glowered while Greg spilled water down his front.

"Now, what'll it be?" Scott asked breathlessly, waving the feather-pen.

Sara kept her eyes narrow and a slight smirk spread across her face. Then she said, sarcastically, "Asparagus, with extra cheese."

"Look, girlfriend, don't get sassy with me, you hear? I don't need to be arguing with a customer today! I have a manicure to look forward to! Now give me your order, or you can take your damn asparagus and get out, while I go looking for that hot big-breasted supermodel to seat your boyfriend with."

"MINE!" Sara suddenly snapped, snatching the asparagus platter from the table and scrambling as far against the wall as possible. "It's mine! All mine! Because you can't have any because it's MINE!"

"Argh!" Scott cried, throwing his hands up and letting the pink-feather-pen fly into somebody's cup of coffee. "That's _it!_ I'm calling the cops, dangit!"

Sara glared after him as he stalked off, and Greg could have sworn he heard her growling softly. He whispered softly, "Are you sure you're all right?" It was the tactic Grissom, he, and the rest of the lab had devised to use whenever they accidentally said aloud the name of the vegetable Sara was obsessing over. She had been obsessed with asparagus for a little over two weeks now and had only flipped out once or twice, mainly because everybody knew to never ever say the 'a' word.

"Mindy was right…" Sara whined, sticking a piece of asparagus into her mouth. "All the good looking ones are gay…" She was in particular referring to a quite unattractive redhead living currently in Chicago, who had recently taken to saying nothing but "I see freaky dead people!" thanks to a certain Las Vegan ex-DNA-tech.

"I'm not gay," Greg said.

"A genetic miracle."

Greg shrugged during Sara's pause. Sara then said, somewhat nervously, "Do you think he's really going to call the cops?"

Greg shrugged again. "But I'm wet. I kept either choking on my water or spilling it on myself."

Sara shrugged this time.

Shrug.

Shrug.

"Can we stop shrugging?" Sara asked, licking cheese from her lips.

Greg nodded, when suddenly the doors to the diner flew open and two uniformed officers stalked in.

"Who here is named Sara Sidle?"

Sara embarrassedly slid deeper into her seat.

"No one, eh?" the first cop said. "How about which one-a-yas got a plate of asparagus in fronta yer right now?"

The cops looked around at the crowded diner that had fallen silent. Scott, standing in a corner, looked very pleased.

"They're over there, officers!" he said happily, pointing.

They stormed over to Sara and Greg's table and stood with their hands on their hips, giant mustaches, and generally unhappy looking disposition.

"Which one-a-yers names is Sara Sidle?" one asked, pointing at either of them.

Greg looked at Sara who was sitting with her nose barely above the table surface, then with an apologetic wince, he pointed at her.

"Yer comin' with us, Missy," the second cop said.

Sara sat up straight in her seat, laughing falsely. "Whatever for? I'm just sitting here with my colleague having a nice breakfast before heading home to get some sleep."

"Yer comin' with us for shooting an endangered species. Yer wanted in Nowhere County for the illegal shooting of eagles."

"Wh-_What?_" Sara cried, her eyes widening.

"You heard me. Come on."

"B-But…"

"Don't make this harder on yerself than it already is."

Sara gulped and looked Greg who shrugged.

"D-Do they have asparagus in prison?" she asked, looking up at the officers, her face screwed up into a pitiful almost guilty-puppy-ish expression.

"And meatloaf."

"Then I'm all set."

The officers bent down and grabbed Sara's wrists, handcuffed her, and dragged her out of the diner. Greg gaped after them then turned to the table.

"Great…" he moaned, putting his head in his hands and sighing. Then suddenly, Scott's voice appeared in his left ear.

"I said I'd get you a big-breasted supermodel, and here she is."

Greg moved his head up so his eyes weren't concealed but his fingers still mingled around his nose and mouth.

Sitting across from him was a blonde woman, wearing a red halter-top, draped with a thin jacket, and cleavage the size of the Grand Canyon.

"Oh jeez…" Greg pulled his hands up to his eyes again.

"That waiter said that your girlfriend was just arrested," the woman said in a high, yet pleasant voice.

"Not my girlfriend, not my girlfriend, not my girlfriend, not my girlfriend," Greg repeated, still shielding his eyes.

"She's not your girlfriend? Your fiancé?"

"Not my fiancé, not romantically involved, not romantically involved," Greg continued, still covering his face.

"You're not involved? Then what's the fun?"

Greg heard the woman huff and storm off then he cautiously peeked out from behind a pinky. Nobody.

"Phew…"

He sagged in his seat and began contemplating. Sara had been arrested. She had left her asparagus behind. How was she going to be? Wait…they had said there was asparagus in prison. She should be fine. But they only had three people covering graveyard shift that way, and only one person covering swing ever since Catherine and Warrick decided they were better off protecting the eagles.

"We're gonna need help covering shift and getting Sara out of jail…" Greg thought aloud. "I know just who to call…" And he pulled out his cellphone and began to dial.


	2. Jason

**Chapter Two**

_Jason_

"Eek! Elizabeth! Help! Jason is being an abhorrent human again!"

Molly Turner dashed down the Chicago crimelab hallways, tripping slightly in her high-heels that did not do her pudgy legs any justice. She was wearing an official looking black skirt that came to her knees, and a button-down suit-jacket whose buttons looked as if they were about to snap.

"Elizabeth! Help me!" She turned a corner and nearly ran into Mindy Bletcher, who was carrying a large stack of paper. Mindy turned around, waved her fist, and grunted threateningly.

"I see freaky dead people!" she shouted after her, narrowing her eyebrows and squinting her light blue eyes.

"Elizabeth!" Molly cried again, turning yet another corner and running flat out as fast as her heels would allow. She slowed at the sight of an open door and skidded to a halt.

Liz Keller looked up from a pile of paperwork at Molly, her blonde hair tucked back behind her ears, her brown eyes curious and suspicious.

"What is it now Molly?" Liz asked calmly, folding her hands on the table and sighing. She had way too much paperwork to bother herself with this.

"It's _Jason_." Molly said scathingly, straightening out her outfit and stepping into Liz's cluttered office. "He's been chasing me with that mouse all afternoon." She narrowed her eyes. "I suggest you make him stop bringing his pet to work."

"Molly, why don't you just get over your fear of mice?"

"You know I can't do that! I'm terrified, and always have been."

Liz rolled her eyes, keeping herself from saying that before Molly started talking again, she hadn't been afraid of anything, not even a dozen eagles threatening to peck her eyes out. "Where is he now?" she asked.

Molly huffed, "He just chased me out of the evidence room with that horrid beast."

"Send him in, please."

Molly turned on her heel and stormed out of Liz's room, "Oh Jason! Come here dear, somebody official would like to speak with you!"

Liz sighed softly and returned to her paperwork. She had far too much on her mind. All this paperwork was consuming her time to go out in the field and be what she wanted to be—a CSI! And not to mention, Will from the coffee shop had finally called her number, and their relationship had been making it harder for her to concentrate on work.

"You wanted to talk to me Liz?" said a warm tenor voice.

Liz looked up at a man with tanned skin, dark brown hair, and matching eyes, as well as a small goatee. He was wearing at the moment a pair of jeans, a navy blue t-shirt with a chest pocket, in which a small white mouse was sticking its nose out of. Over the t-shirt was a lightly-colored leather jacket, in which his hands were tucked.

"Yes, Jason." Liz said, folding her hands and twiddling her thumbs. She stared purposefully at him. He did nothing. "Well? Sit down!"

Jason nodded at her and swept over to the chair in front of Liz's desk, seeming nervous.

Liz pursed her lips and continued twiddling her thumbs.

"Jason, what am I going to do with you?"

"What?"

"Chasing Molly around with Matches?"

Jason shrugged and reached into his shirt pocket, coming out with Matches the mouse.

"You know he's harmless. I don't see what the problem is."

"You're scaring Molly half out of her wits and causing her to run around in high-heeled shoes!"

"Hmm…I guess you have a point…"

"Why are you bothering to do things like that when there's plenty of work for you to do?" Liz asked him exasperatedly.

Jason shrugged.

"I'm bored."

"And what are we supposed to do about that?"

"Make me un-bored?" he offered.

Liz rolled her eyes again. "You know we can't do that."

"Why not? All I'm asking is to go to one more seminar, one more conference, one more chance to go out of the lab! Please?"

"_No_ Jason!" Liz said sternly, pointing her eyes at him and widening them authoritatively. "You know we can't risk what happened last time!"

"So I set the teacher on fire, big deal! It was an accident anyway!"

"It nearly cost you your job! _And_ mine!"

Jason suddenly stuck out his lip and widened his eyes.

"Pwease?"

"Jason, don't."

"Pwetty Pwease?"

"No."

"With Sir William on top?"

"Don't bring Will into this."

"Come on Liz! I promise! I won't!"

Liz sighed then said softly, "I can't."

Then her phone rang as Jason threw his hands in the air, Matches chewing on a belt-loop.

"Stay here, we'll finish this up after the phone call." Liz said to him and picking up her phone.

"Chicago Crimelab, this is Supervisor Elizabeth Keller speaking, how may I help you?"

"Hey, Liz, it's Greg Sanders from Las Vegas!"

"Oh…well, hi Greg. What…why are you calling?"

"We have a problem."

"What? Already? It's only been a couple of weeks! What's wrong with you Las Vegans? Not seen enough snow in your lifetime?"

"Hey, don't make fun of me. No, really, a _big_ problem. Sara's been arrested."

"What! What for?"

"Well, you know how she shot all those eagles and stuff on your rescue mission thing?"

"Yeah…"

"Yeah, well, she's been arrested for shooting those eagles."

"Well…well how can I help?"

"I need your help to bail her out of jail."

"How am I going to do that?"

"And I also need a replacement for her while she's in jail."

Liz paused, her mouth open.

"Well…I-I-I can't leave the lab."

"Why not? You did it for Grissom! Why not me?"

"Well it's just—I…er…I-I-I don't know. I-I don't know."

"Pwease?"

"Greg, don't!"

"Pwetty Pwease?"

"No."

"With…do you have a boyfriend?"

Liz blushed.

"Maybe."

"With whomever you're dating on top?"

"Greg!"

Suddenly Molly appeared in Liz's doorway.

"Elizabeth, Melinda is attempting to get candy from the soda machine and it's not working, do you want me to stop her before she sets off the alarm?"

"Could you do that Molly, please?"

But Molly was staring at Liz.

"To whom are you talking to?"

"Somebody. Go make sure Mindy doesn't do anything stupid."

"Whom?"

Liz rolled her eyes.

"Greg Sanders, from Las Vegas, remember?"

"Ooh, the dashing one?"

"Yes, Molly, the dashing one." Liz repeated. "Now go stop Mindy!"

"Oh, yes, yes, righto, righto." And Molly headed off back where she came from.

"Sorry Greg…" Liz said into the phone.

"You think I'm dashing?"

"Cut it out."

"No, really? I've never been called dashing before."

"Cut it out!"

"Fine. But really, I really desperately need your help! There's a crazy gay waiter here who's trying to hook me up with a hooker!"

Liz winced, "That bad, huh?"

She thought she heard Greg whimper on the other end. "Mhmm."

Liz sighed, "All right, I guess I'll come."

Jason gaped at her, his eyes widening.

"Thank you!" Greg cried into the phone. "You won't regret it! I promise!"

"Goodbye Greg."

"See you soon Liz!"

And they simultaneously hung up.

"Where are you going?" Jason asked her, putting Matches in his pocket and standing abruptly.

"I'm going to Las Vegas." Liz said, stacking the completed paperwork and grabbing her purse and jacket.

"WHAT?"

"Molly can keep an eye on you and Mindy, don't worry!" she said, pulling out her keys and heading out the door.

Jason narrowed his eyes and followed her.

"I don't need anybody to watch me. My pyromaniatism is completely under control."

"Of course it is. Anyway, a friend of mine needs help over there and I'm heading on over." She opened the doors leading into the darkened parking lot.

"And you can't take me with you?"

"No. I can't. I don't want you setting Greg or Grissom on fire."

"That was an accident!" Jason shouted as Liz went to her car.

"Jason, really. I can't risk it. I'm going home to order plane tickets and then I'm going to Las Vegas, all right?"

Jason narrowed his eyes even further, then said in a low voice, "If you don't take me with you I'm going to let Matches loose in the evidence department and you'll get fired for deserting your crew and hiring somebody like me."

Liz dropped her jaw and glowered at Jason through her car window. Then, closing her mouth, Liz said quietly, "Get in."


	3. Welcome to Las Vegas

**A/N: I'm back! Yes! For the few of you who are reading, I am back! I was off trying to finish off my other more popular story (Whose 11246 hits were erased after the whole site being down and such.D: ) So, yes. I'm back. Enjoy. :) Also, I'm going to let you know in advance, if you review enough I have two more sequals in the making.

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Chapter Three

_Welcome to Vegas_

Liz pulled the rental car into the crimelab parking lot and parked near the entrance. Jason was dozing in the passenger seat of their rented red Ferrari, snoring quietly. Matches was in his lap, chewing at another belt loop.

"Jason, wake up." Liz said briskly, grabbing her purse, pulling out a piece of gum, sticking it into her mouth, next pulling out a brush and brushing her hair into place.

"Uggh…" Jason turned to his side and began to giggle softly, his eyes closed.

"Get up and stop pretending to be dreaming." Liz snapped, throwing the brush back into her purse and narrowing her eyes at Jason.

One of Jason's eyes popped open, and then the next one.

"How do you always know?"

"Female intuition. Plus you never giggle in your sleep."

Jason rolled his eyes and sat up in his seat.

"Thanks for getting the Ferrari like I wanted. It was just so hot looking!"

"Now remember what you promised," Liz diverted the conversation from the headache-inducing amount of money she had spent to keep Jason happy with the bright red Ferrari. "No starting any fires in anything other than:" She left the sentence open-ended for Jason to finish.

"Nothing but a fireplace, got it. And Matches promises not to cough up any fireballs."

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Jason, Matches is a mouse, not a dragon."

Jason shrugged. "I'm sure he could breathe fire if he wanted to."

Liz stared, trying to scrounge up something to say, but before anything came to mind, her cellphone rang.

"What the…" She fumbled in her purse again and pulled out her cellphone. She flipped it open and looked at the caller. "What! Already?" She hit the button and put it to her ear, "Molly! What could have possibly happened already? It hasn't even been a whole day yet!"

Molly's British voice blared through the cell, "Melinda is being absolutely impossible! I tell her to go process a case by the lake this morning and what does she do? She throws a fit because she hasn't had her morning candy! And she's trying to get it out of the soda machine; I mean it's absolutely ridiculous! She's going to break something!"

"Molly, I'm sure you can handle this. Just try something like…tell her that they have a candy stand on the way or something."

Liz could almost see Molly rolling her eyes on the other end. "Whatever you say Elizabeth." And she hung up.

Liz closed the phone and threw it back into her purse. "Let's go inside so we can accomplish something before she calls again."

Jason nodded as Liz opened her door and stepped out with purse in hand. Jason exited the vehicle as well; Matches safely back in his pocket. Liz strode briskly towards the entrance to the building, Jason at her side, but suddenly coming around the corner was a very anxious looking Brass.

"Oh, hey Brass! Looks like they got you off of that mountain, huh?" Liz said brightly, ambling up to him.

His face shot to hers, seeming very nervous. He quickly turned and shoved something into the pocket of his sports jacket.

"Oh…yeah…yeah they did. It's…Liz, right? I think?"

Liz nodded, with a small smile.

"Well, do you think you could show us which way Grissom's office is?"

"Er…"

"You don't have to if you're busy. We can find it ourselves if it's too much trouble." Liz offered.

"Uh…yeah, you know, I'm really, really busy…so, uh. You might be better off finding it yourself."

"Oh, okay." Liz raised an eyebrow, but pushed open the front door of the building and herded Jason inside.

Once indoors, Liz took the authoritative lead, Jason glancing around at the glass and metal institutional walls of the hallways. People bustled in and out, in and out, through the hallways, like ants rushing through the tunnels of their dirt fortress, knowing exactly what they're bodies were meant to be doing at that exact moment.

And Liz and Jason were two foreign ants, one of which carrying a pet mouse.

"Which way do we go?" Jason asked Liz, taking Matches out of his pocket and cradling him in one hand, turning to the side as two officers brushed past him.

"Let's ask that secre—"

"Liz!"

Liz and Jason turned to see Greg, jogging towards them, twisting his way through the crowd of busy-bodied people.

"Hey Liz!" Greg panted, "Glad you're here. Very glad you're here. This place hasn't been the same. Sara's just…gone…"

"No kidding. Where's Grissom's office?"

"He's not in there. He's in the breakroom with Nick. Come on."

Greg jogged off, dodging people once more as he headed down the hallways of the Las Vegas crimelab.

* * *

"Grissom! Liz is here! And—dude, why are you stalking us?"

Greg turned to face Jason as Liz entered the breakroom. Jason was taller than him, but looked slightly less intimidating with the small white mouse in his hand.

"What are you talking about?" Jason said, trying to step past Greg, who moved in front of him.

"You're following us. You were in the entry and then you followed us down the hallway and now you're here. Why?"

"He's with me Greg." Liz said, greeting Grissom as he stood up with a hug and then shaking Nick's hand, who also stood out of politeness. She then sat down between the two and set her purse on the tabletop.

Greg eyed Jason suspiciously, but let him pass.

"Anyway…" Liz began, "Fill me in completely here. What exactly happened?"

Greg informed her of the incident at the diner and how Sara had mouthed off to the waiter who had then called the cops.

"Uh-huh…so…remind me why I'm here?"

"We need your help bailing her out of jail, Liz." Grissom said in his calm collected way.

"What am I supposed to do? I'm not exactly a millionaire!"

"Well-I—What about that Ferrari?" Grissom stuttered.

"It's a rental."

He paused to stroke his bearded chin, buried in thought.

"I don't know what I'm going to be able to do about the bail," Liz murmured, also thinking. "But…so they said she was convicted in Nowhere county?"

"Yes." Greg affirmed.

"Where the heck is that?" Jason cried, setting Matches on the table and bouncing him back and forth between his hands.

"My guess is in the middle of nowhere." Greg responded cynically.

"Liz, we also need you to take Sara's place. We needed a female forensic scientist to avoid even more imbalance between the two sexes and you, Mindy, and Molly were the first to come to mind. And we picked the obvious choice." Nick said, speaking up for the first time in his pleasant accent.

"Molly's not _that _bad." Greg defended. "She's got a cool accent."

"But she's also butt-ugly and wear's too much black." Nick retorted.

"Yeah, but she has a cool accent."

"But—"

"Enough!" Liz snapped, raising her hands to quiet them. "Okay, I'll stay here and replace Sara while she's away. In the meantime somebody has to talk to her and somebody has to find out where Nowhere county is. Wherever that may be. Jason…somebody will have to help keep an eye on Jason. He has issues."

"Stalker related?" Greg inquired.

"He's a pyromaniac."

"I am not!" Jason defended, putting Matches onto his shoulder.

"The last time he went out of the lab, to some seminar, he set the teacher on fire."

"That was an accident! It could have happened to anybody!"

"Yes, but it happened to you!" Liz retorted.

Jason then stuck his fingers in his ears. "La-la-la-la-la! I can't hear you! La-la-la!"

"You are so immature."

"I have to go use the facilities!" Jason suddenly declared, standing up with his fingers still in his ears. "Don't bother trying to stop me! I'm a man on a whim! And that whim is—"

"We don't need to know!" Liz cried. "Just go! Go on!"

And Jason left.

They talked for a few more minutes about random things, when Liz's cellphone rang for a second time.

Liz irritably thrust her hand into her purse and pulled out the phone, flipped it open and said, "Hello?" in a breathless manner.

"Elizabeth!"

"_What_ Molly?"

"Melinda is being insufferable _again_."  
"What now?"

"She drove back from that crime scene, angry about there not being any candy. It's ridiculous. She hasn't processed anything."

Liz put her fingers to her temples and rubbed. "Okay…Molly…try this. Go to the scene _with _her this time. And make sure that _you _drive"

"What? You want me to drive one of those American vehicles? I can't do that! You all drive on the wrong side of the road!"

"No, Mindy…we drive on the right side."

"No! The wrong!"

"No, you don't get it. Left, right. We drive on the right, right?"

"Wrong!"

"Uggh. Molly, I have to go."

"Do something!"

Liz hung up, and then noticed that she had gathered the stares of everybody in the room.

"It's just Molly. She's not used to being in charge."

Grissom opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly Jason veered around a corner and dashed for the door of the breakroom.

"Jason, what's wrong?" Liz asked, standing up as Jason stood doubled over, panting.

"F-fire…in-in th-the Trace l-lab…"

"Oh my God…i-is anybody hurt?" Liz asked, as everybody got to their feet and began to dash out into the hallway, the sounds of alarms growing near.

"I don't know!" Jason looked panicked.

"Wait a minute…Jason…did you—"

"There's no time to start berating me for something I didn't do!" Jason cried, skidding to a halt before the entrance to the trace lab, the back of which shrouded in flames.

"Somebody get a fire-extinguisher!" Liz cried.

Grissom barged forward, snatching one off the wall beside the entrance and attacking the wall of fire.

"There." The counter stood smoldering, remnants of the fire including nothing more than the scorched countertop, several burst test tubes and beakers, and the large v-shadow of smoke on the wall where the fire had burned.

"Hey, why is everybody—oh boy."

Hodges appeared next to them, staring at the remnants of the back end of his trace lab. "What the—what the heck happened?"

"Hodges, hi there." Liz said, in a falsely bright voice.

"What happened?"

"We don't know. There was a fire."

"With a pyro in the building." Greg added.

"Well I can see there was a fire! All I did was come out of the lab for a minute to come find you guys and say…and say…"

"What?" Liz prompted, examining the wreckage.

"Welcome to Las Vegas…"

Liz smirked.

"Pretty strange welcoming, huh?"

"Yup."


	4. Helga and Meatloaf

**Chapter Four**

_Helga and Meatloaf_

Helga Osterhoudt sat glumly on her white bed sheets, her squashed, almost pig-like face shrouded by the darkness of her cell. It was lonesome in jail, especially when you had no cellmate to lament to, and such was the case Helga Osterhoudt found herself facing.

She was stoutly built, her light hair tied into braids on either side of her head. Her giant brown eyes, pug nose, plump lips, and large mole filled up half of her face. The other half consisted of two furry caterpillars for eyebrows and her creased forehead. She was a rather dim person, but also very emotional—like the Hulk in Scandinavian, female, non-green form. And that was how she derived her nickname, Helga the Hulk.

Helga sighed from her perch on the top bunk. The mattress was quite pitiful, and the springs could hardly support her weight. But it was what she had to deal with.

"I am so alone!" she cried in her deep voice and thick accent, the combination of which might have made her sound dimwitted to others.

"Oy, Helga!" It was the security guard who patrolled the hallways at night.

"Yes, Horace?" she asked, leaning to the side and peering out the bars of her cell.

"You have a new friend. Came in today…"

"Vreally?"

"Yes, _vreally._ Bring 'er o'er."

Helga sat up completely, the bed sagging even more. She looked excitedly out of the room, searching for her new cellmate.

The woman came around the corner, dressed in a baggy orange jumper like Helga's, only Helga's was almost too small and this jumper was obviously too large for this woman. Her brunette hair was ruffled and there were purple bags hanging below her brown eyes. She almost looked nauseous.

"Hello!" Helga cheerfully said. "My name is Helga. You are going to be my new cellmate! Von't this be fun?"

The new woman offered a faint grin as the cell gate was slammed behind her.

"I am from Sveden." Helga declared, jumping off the bed and coming up to the newcomer.

"Then what are you doing in an American jail cell?" the woman asked, sweeping past Helga to the bottom bunk.

"I don't know. I come to this country and then POOF!"

"Poof?" Sara raised an eyebrow at her as she brushed her hand along the sheets.

"Yes! POOF!"

The new woman paused, examining Helga for a moment. "_Poof?_"

"YES! POOF! I am telling you! I just went POOF!"

"What happened _before _you went poof?" She sat down on the bed and it gave a soft creak.

"Vell, I vas out to dinner vith my new…how you say? _Boyfriend._ And I vas saying goodnight to 'im and then—POOF!"

"Enough with the POOF! What happened? You couldn't have just gone poof!"

"Vell, I gave 'im a very big hug! Like this!"

She bounded over to the Sara and wrapped her large arms around her shoulders and squeezed, lifting her up and off her bed.

"You see? Like this! And then I think I heard something go 'crack!'"

"Ow! THAT would be my BACK!"

"Oops. I am so sorry. But that is vat I did! And then POOF!"

"I told you! Enough with the poof! You must have been charged with assault or battery or something…" the woman gasped, for Helga's arms were still wrapped in a vice grip around her, squeezing the breath out of her.

"Oh. That is vat the judge vas talking about on that big ol' stand of 'is? I never knew. But that is just silly! All I did was give him a big hug! Like this!" She squeezed the newcomer more, who let out a strangled sound.

"Helga!" she wheezed.

"Yes?"

"Let go!"

"Vat? Oh. Okay."

Helga released her hold, and the newcomer took in a giant breath as she came free and crumpled onto the lower bunk.

"So…vat is your name?"

"Sara."

"Oh. That is a nice name. Are ve going to be bestest friends?

Sara blinked. "Umm…friends?"

"Yes! Friends, you silly goose!

"Umm…define friends."

"Oh, I like you already! You are so funny! You know, friends! Pals! Buddies! Vat else is there to call it?"

Sara blinked again and flopped into a lying position, as if finally giving up on life and just lying down to wilt away into death.

"When do we get fed?" she mumbled.

"It is almost time for dinner. Meatloaf and asparagus! Vith cheese! But I do not like the asparagus…nobody does…it is a disgusting piece of vermin. Disgusting! I do not know vhy the even bother to serve it!"

Sara pulled the cotton pillow closer to her.

"Well I think the same about meatloaf. It's disgusting." She sat up, looking thoughtful. Then her face broke into a smile.

"Sara? Vat is it you are thinking? Your teeth are showving. I do not like it ven that happens. It frightens me. Vat are you thinking?"

"Helga, let's make a deal. If you can give me all your asparagus, I'll give you all my meatloaf."

Helga's eyes widened. "You? You vill actually give avay the sacred meatloaf to _me?_" Then suddenly she ran forward and picked Sara up in her arms again, squeezing her for a third time.

"OH! You are the bestest person! I love you! You are my best friend! I am so happy you are giving me your meatloaf! Oh Sara, if I could only repay you!"

Sara emitted some strangled noises.

"Vat? Vat are you trying to say?" Helga pulled Sara away from herself, holding her up from the ground by her shoulders. "Speak to me, friend!"

"You could start by not hugging me…"

"Oh. Okay." Helga set Sara back on the ground. "I vill not hug you anymore. Helga vill be good."

"Thanks…"

An hour later, Sara and Helga, and all surrounding inmates in their cells stood with paper plates in there hands, leaning out the bars of their cages, awaiting food. A woman in a white uniform and a grouchy expression walked up the hallway, pushing a cart. On that cart was a large jug of water, a tub of meatloaf, and a tub of asparagus with cheese.

"Order up," she said in a cigarette-worn voice. She scooped up a blob of meatloaf and put it on Sara's plate. Sara's lip curled.

"Don't whine, missy!" She smacked Sara on the head with the spoon, glaring at her. "And I want all of the asparagus eaten. ALL OF IT!" She forked an enormous pile of asparagus onto Sara's plate and Sara pretended to look disgusted.

"Evening Helga," the woman said, plopping the same goopy meat onto her plate and the same enormous scoop of asparagus next to it.

"That is Miss Vallheim. She does not seem very nice, but in truth she is just cranky." Helga watched the old woman walk away before turning to Sara who was staring at the asparagus with a manic grin on her face. "She's gone. Are you vready to do the trading thing?"

Sara nodded and scraped her meatloaf onto Helga's plate, at the same time that Helga scraped her asparagus onto Sara's.

"Er…how you people say it? Dig in!"

Sara went and sat on her bed, picking up a stalk of asparagus dripping in cheese. She lowered the head into her mouth and instantly began to consume the rest of the vegetable. Helga forked the meatloaf into her mouth.

"How is that asparagus, Sara?" Helga asked when she finished her meatloaf. Sara had only gotten a couple of stalks down.

Sara's head snapped to Helga.

"Mine," She said flatly.

"I know that, but does that asparagus taste good? I hope so. That meatloaf was very—"

"YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!" Sara screeched. She dashed over to the corner of the room, shoveling more in.

"But…but I just gave it to. I told you, I don't vant it. Are you all right?"

Sara glared. "Fine."

"Yes, but are you _sure _you're all right?"

Sara blinked, looking around.

"Umm…did…did I just spaz out right then?" she asked shakily, standing up.

"Yes! If that is vat you call it! I was only trying to be nice to my bestest friend, asking if you liked your vegetables or not and you became so rude!"

"Helga, I'll explain the situation to you later, all right? It's this…issue I have…I don't know what started it. Do I…do I get a phone call at all?"

"One phone call a day! At noon!" Helga cried angrily. She took in a dramatic breath. "I hope you get out of here soon! You are not nice at all! I'm going to sleep! I suggest you do the same!"

Helga walked over to a sink and pulled out a brush. She attacked her hair, ripping it through them forcefully. Sara sighed, setting her asparagus away under the bed for later. She was exhausted. Getting taken to jail can really take it out of you. She pulled the sheets over herself, settling in as best she could on the thin mattresses. She heard Helga cross the room and clamber up the ladder. Then an enormous creak sounded and the mattress above Sara's head sagged down to a couple inches above her head.

"What the—" She sat up, but hit her head on the bottom of Helga's mattress. "Ouch!"

"GOODNIGHT!"

"Sorry…goodnight Helga…"


	5. Not Coming

**Chapter Five**

_Not Coming_

The smell of smoke still hung heavily in the air as several lab techs mulled about inside the Trace lab, helping recover evidence, logging the damaged things, scrubbing the recoverable furniture and disposing of the unrecoverable items.

Liz sighed, leaning against the doorframe as people moved in and out. Grissom stood next to her, hands in his pockets and Jason had been swept off to an interrogation room. Brass and Nick were busy interviewing him at the moment, and Greg was assisting with clean up.

"So Grissom…" Liz began, trying to break up the silence between them.

"Yes?" His face was grim as he peered for a split second at everything that was being brought out of the room.

"How much is Sara's bail anyway?"

He sighed, shifting his weight to his right leg. "Somewhere around…$7000," he mumbled.

Liz's jaw dropped and for a moment, she was prepared to answer before Hodges stopped by.

"Another reason I thought I'd stop by to talk was because I'm stuck preparing Ecklie's funeral. Would you like to help?"

"I'm busy Hodges," Liz responded flatly.

He sighed heavily. "Fine. I see why. Nobody likes the lab techs; especially after they have one wall of their lab burned to a crisp and then are left to clean up the pieces of their boss's death. I understand."

"Actually David, it's because Liz has to go wash some cars and I have to go file some paperwork on the incident," Grissom answered, nodding at him.

Liz looked sideways at him, a disbelieving look on her face. "Who said anything about washing cars?"

"I did. Get going. You can buy a bucket and rag for $10 easy. Just wash the cars of every employee in this lab for $25 and you'll have about…" He paused for a moment, doing some quick mental math. "You'll have all the money you need. There're about 200 some employees—wash that many cars and you're all set."

Liz gaped at him.

"What?" he said.

"_200 some cars?_" she hissed. "I can hardly wash the one I have!"

"That's a Ferrari, you better learn to wash it properly," Hodges stated.

"It's a rental," Liz snapped at him.

Greg stepped out from the lab and turned to Grissom expectantly.

"Lab's all cleaned up. Evidence lost was minimal. We found the crispy remains of a box of matches; none were ripped out of the box. Shall I go interview the arsonist?"

"He's not an arsonist Greg," Liz muttered. "He's a pyromaniac and his name is Jason. And Nick is doing the interview anyway."

Grissom started walking towards his office, waving at Greg to follow him. Greg did so, leaving just Hodges and Liz standing there.

"Well you have some cars to go wash, don't you?" Hodges said.

Liz sighed, "Yeah…"

"Well I still have some leftover Jeeps and stuff from Ecklie's enormous order. He left them to me in his will. I'll pay you $175 to wash all thirteen of them."

"_Thirteen?_" Liz cried incredulously.

"Yes, but it's a whole 175 dollars…" Hodges teased.

Liz groaned heavily.

* * *

"So let me get this straight…" Nick said amicably. "You didn't start the fire."

"No! I told you that already!" Jason cried. He looked nervous, as if he needed to be somewhere else.

"Do you have something you need to be doing?" Nick questioned.

"I lost my mouse."

"Your mouse?"

"Yes, my pet mouse. His name is Matches and he's small and white. I set him on the floor while I went to the bathroom and he doesn't usually scurry off, but this time he did and I spent about five minutes looking for him and I _still _couldn't find him!"

"Do you have any proof?"

Jason threw his hands up. "Does it _look _like I have him?"

Nick remained silent and O'Reilly spoke up.

"So after you looked for the mouse in the bathroom, where did you go?"

"I left the bathroom and headed back down to the breakroom to ask Liz and Grissom and them for help, but I saw the Trace Lab on fire!"

"Did you see anybody nearby?" Nick inquired.

"I saw somebody turn a corner."

"Can you give us a description?" O'Reilly pressed.

"Not skinny. Losing some hair. He was wearing a sports coat and loafers. He was a couple inches shorter than me."

Nick sighed. He had just described a couple of men that worked at the lab, Brass being one of them, but Brass couldn't have done it.

"Am I going to go to jail?" Jason asked.

Nick shook his head. "As of yet we don't have any concrete evidence. But don't bother leaving town."

"Well _duh. _You think I'm going to leave Liz here alone with you lunatics? No way. Nu-uh. Absolutely not."

"Well then you're free to go for now," O'Reilly said.

* * *

Liz was agitated. No, scratch that, she was beyond agitated. She was infuriated. Yeah, that was the word—completely infuriated. She was up to her knees in soapsuds, her hair pulled behind her head and the back of her neck burning in the sunlight. Her fingers were wrinkled like prunes and the tennis shoes she had put on for the job were soaked through to her socks.

"I hate Grissom, I hate Grissom, I hate Grissom," she repeated over and over to herself as she washed the jeep. But hey, this was for 175 bucks. Surely, it was worth it.

A bubble in the bucket of soapy water burst as she bent down to pick it up. The wet particles landed in one of her eyes and on instinct, she brought a hand up to flush it out. The searing burn it left behind had her gasping and bouncing up and down in pain.

It was definitely _not_ worth it.

Then suddenly from inside the pocket of her shorts her cellphone rang…again…

She scraped the soapsuds off into the bucket and gingerly pulled the device out, flipping it open with the back of her wrist, still feeling the urge to cry out in pain as she squinted against the sting.

"WHAT MOLLY?" Yelling would do.

"Liz?"

"Oh. Sorry Nick. What do you need?"

"I just finished up interviewing Jason. Do you think he did it?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Maybe.

"Do you believe that he spent five minutes looking for his mouse in the bathroom?"

"He loves that mouse."

"I was just checking. Hey, while you're out there washing cars—"

"Who told you?"

"Grissom. Anyway, I was wondering while you're out there if you'd wash my car."

She gritted her teeth. "That'll be $25. Would you like fries with that?"

"I'll give you $50 if you vacuum the inside."

"Deal."

* * *

After five more hours, blisters had begun to form on Liz's shoulders. Every one of her limbs felt like they were about to fall off, and yet all fourteen cars had been freshly cleaned, one vacuumed. She dragged herself into the building and went searching for Hodges. She found him in the breakroom, pouring over forms.

"Wow, you look like crap."

"Shut up." She collapsed into a chair at the opposite end of the table and placed her sunburned cheeks against the cool metal.

"Did you finish?"

"Yes. And I want my money."

"I'm busy."

"Like hell you are. Gimme my cash."

"Do _you _want to plan this funeral? This requires careful planning, especially since there's no body."

"Didn't Greg kill that guy?"

"Yeah, but they don't have murder laws in Nowhere County."

Liz peeled her head off the table and looked incredulously at Hodges.

"They have laws against killing eagles, but not against murder?"

Hodges shrugged.

"Anyway," he continued, "I guess I can give you the cash now..." He reached around behind him and pulled out his wallet, fingered through it and pulled out two twenties and a ten.

"You said 175 bucks." Liz cried, her voice rising an octave.

"Well that's all I have so far."

"You jerk."

He shrugged. "I get that a lot." Then he turned back to filling out the forms.

She was just about to stand up to go looking for Nick, when he strolled in.

"I want my fifty bucks," Liz demanded.

"You bet…" Nick pulled out his wallet and fingered through until he had fifty.

"At least somebody can pay up," she muttered, taking the cash from him, recounting it and putting it in her back pocket.

"Hey, I'm gonna go over to the prison and talk to Sara. You want to come with?" Nick asked.

"Do you have any Aloe Vera gel?"

"We could stop on the way."

"Count me in."

* * *

"I'm not coming."

"What do you mean you're not coming?" Liz said.

"I'm not leaving here. I'm perfectly happy here. I get all the asparagus with cheese I want! Nobody else likes it!" Sara cried.

She, Liz, and Nick were standing in the visitors' area. It was a minimum-security facility, so they were allowed to share the same air space.

"You have to come! I just spent six hours in the glaring sun washing cars to raise money to bail you out!" Liz said, making giant gestures with her hands. The back of her neck had been slathered with coconut scented Aloe Vera gel and the rest of her body still reeked of soap.

"Well I'm sorry you had to go through all that pain for nothing," Sara said in a dignified way. "My court date is coming up. I can live here until then."

"There is absolutely no way we're letting you stay here until then," Nick declared. "Imagine what the feds will say! The mayor! Good God, what about the sheriff?"

"Say about what?" Sara asked.

"About there not being enough females!"

"Liz is here."

"Yeah, but I can't stay here forever."

Sara huffed.

"I'm not coming," she said again. Then her stomach growled uncomfortably.

"I thought you got all the asparagus you wanted?" Liz asked.

Sara's eyes narrowed and Nick knew the warning signs immediately.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked and she returned to normal. "Why did your stomach growl?"

"Well, but…well…it's nothing."

Liz raised an eyebrow.

Then her cellphone rang.

"GOOD GOD!" she shouted, turning several heads and causing the guards to subconsciously brush their hands over their guns. She grabbed her phone, flipped it open and stifled a snarl as she muttered, "Hello?" into the phone.

"Elizabeth!" It was Molly.

"WHAT?"

"Mindy is driving the car!"

"WHY?"

"Because she tied me up and threw me in the back seat!"

Liz smacked her hand to her head.

"How are you talking on the phone then?"  
"She's holding it to my mouth."

"Do you know where she's taking you?"

"The candy store down on South Street."

Good grief.

"Tell her that as soon as she fulfills her sweet tooth's desires, she unties you and let's you drive or she's fired," Liz replied.

"Of course."

"Goodbye."

"Cheerio!"

The line was severed and Liz closed her phone.

"Who was that?" Sara asked.

"Molly."

"How's she doing?"

"She's tied up in the back of the car and Mindy is driving on a sugar-craving gone bad. I might have to leave earlier than I thought."

"Then you should probably speed up washing those cars," Nick said.

Liz smacked her head on the table. Uggh. There had to be a better way.


End file.
